Beyond Salvation
by shadowmaat
Summary: Kylo is injured after his battle with Rey and gets no sympathy from anyone, not even the voice in his head. When he learns that certain vital facts have been hidden from him he begins to question his place in the First Order.
1. Chapter 1

The Light seared him. Burning. Blinding. Through the haze of pain he looked up at the glowing figure standing over him. She was carved from durasteel. Colder than the snow at his back. The blue reflected in her eyes held no hope of mercy. She studied him like he was insignificant; a bug to be squashed. How was this even possible? He was Kylo Ren, Lord of the Knights of Ren and Chosen One of the Supreme Leader Snoke! He was as inevitable as the First Order itself! No one could defeat him!

 _Kill him._

He twitched in surprise, recognizing the voice. It was the Supreme Leader, the one who had rescued him from the chains of obligation his family had tried to wrap around him. The family who refused to recognize that he was destined for greatness. But now… now he was speaking to someone else.

 _Kill him and join me!_

Realization spread like ice through his veins. The filthy little scavenger girl. The Supreme Leader was talking to _her_. Telling her to kill _him!_

 _Do this and accept your destiny!_

His side throbbed and the burn across his face pulsed white-hot in his rage. Those were the words Snoke had spoken to _him_ at the Jedi temple! He struggled to make his limbs work, willed his saber to jump to his hand so he could strike down this pestilent little fraud. Sparks flashed through his right eye, but nothing happened.

He saw the curl of her lip, heard the hum of the lightsaber- _mineminemine_ \- as she raised it. The ground itself trembled with her rage. And then he was falling. Falling, just like- like-

 _"Daddy, help!"_

 _"It's okay, Benny, I've got you."_

 _Strong arms caught him, pulling him into hug before tossing him up and catching him again. Laughter bubbled out of him, joined by the warm, familiar chuckle of his father._

 _His father, falling..._

Darkness. Pain. Both were familiar.

 _You idiot,_ a voice hissed in his head. It, too, was familiar. _You kriffing spoiled-brat little idiot! How many times? How much evidence do you have to see before it gets through that thick, arrogant head of yours? Even your father can see it! Everyone but you!_

His father. His father, falling, grief and pain etched on his face. Kylo pushed the thoughts away, pushed the voice away, too, and struggled to wake up. He had to get out of there.

"...a bacta tank. The doctor says anything less won't be enough."

Hux's voice. It was as crisp as ever, although lacking the contempt that flavored it whenever he spoke to Kylo. He tried to draw a breath to respond, but knives sank into his side, freezing his lungs.

"No."

His master's voice. _Their_ master's voice. He managed to breathe in and out.

"He hasn't earned it," Snoke continued. "Let him suffer the pain his weakness has caused. Maybe it will serve as a lesson to him."

Kylo went numb. Only his side and his face still burned with heat. The Supreme Leader was furious.

"He could still lose the eye," Hux said, as matter-of-fact as if he were saying the kitchen had run out of caf.

"He should be grateful not to lose more, after that embarrassing performance. He failed to do as I ordered, failed to stop the destruction of my weapon, and couldn't even stop an untrained savage from besting him in combat."

Silence. Kylo struggled to speak, but his jaw felt wired shut. He tried to open his eyes and felt the pain flare on his right side. Nothing was working.

"I will not tolerate any more failures, General. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Supreme Leader."

"Good. Take Kylo Ren away until he is fit to be in my presence and continue with Phase 2."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

Something jostled him. He was prone on his back but could feel himself moving. He made one last effort to make his presence known, but the darkness swallowed him again.

 _Poor little Ben,_ the voice in his head mocked. _Lost and alone in the dark. If only someone could help him!_

He hated that voice, always sounding off in the back of his mind during his weakest moments. He willed himself wake up again, but the darkness prevailed.

 _Too bad he pushed away the only people who ever cared about him. Pushed them away… or killed them._

He fought to block out the voice, concentrating on the meditations Snoke had taught him.

 _Your grandfather would be so proud, wouldn't he? You'd like to think so, anyway. You've built this whole ridiculous life around it._

Breathing. In through the nose. Count. Out through the mouth. In. And out. He was a stone, solid and unbreakable.

 _Except it isn't true._

He was a stone and the words would pass over him like water, unable to affect him.

 _Your grandfather isn't Darth Vader, he's Anakin Skywalker. And in the end, right at the end, he was was sorry for what he did! He chose his family over power! Because family is-_

Kylo yelled. He forgot the breathing, the stone, the water, and just let rage fill him. He burned with hatred intense enough to drive away the pain and, more importantly, drive away the voice. He _pushed_ with his mind and heard things crash around him.

This time he managed to get his eyes open. He was in a sterile white room full of medical equipment, most of which was now against the wall and broken. There was a groan and clatter to his right as a white and black blur rose from the floor.

"Sir!" The trooper wheezed. "I'll go and get General Hux immediately!"

The shape- the trooper- wobbled towards a dark rectangle in the wall and disappeared. Kylo could hear his footsteps retreating. He blinked a few times, but his vision didn't improve. He managed to push himself upright, but the effort almost made him pass out again. He swallowed his nausea and swung his legs over the side of bed he was in.

He was dressed in a hospital gown. The cheap fabric made him feel raw all over. And it was white. They'd dressed him in white. He yanked it off and crumpled it in a ball on the floor. He wanted to hurl it across the room, but he was already getting tired and needed to conserve his energy.

He prodded the bandages around his waist and felt a stab of pain from the bowcaster wound. That damned Wookiee. How dare he shoot at him? Kylo vowed to kill him the next time they met. His mind wandered, reminding him of times he'd ridden high on furry shoulders, snarling in what he was convinced was perfect Shyriiwook. He jabbed the wound again, using the pain to wash away the intrusive memories.

This was unproductive. He needed to get out of here, get back to his quarters, and then work to convince Snoke that he was still strong and dependable. Much more so than eopie-faced brat from Jakku. He braced himself and pushed off the bed.

His feet hit the floor, but his left leg buckled and he wound up crashing to his knees, biting back a yelp of pain.

"What the kriffing hell do you think you're doing?"

"Hux," he growled. Of course the prissy general would arrive in time to see him looking undignified. "I am leaving this pathetic excuse for a medical facility and going back to my quarters." He lifted his head, turning it slightly so he could get a good look at him.

Hux was in his uniform, but the sharp, military-grade creases were gone and his hair looked slightly mussed. For the first time Kylo wondered what time it was. And how long he'd been out.

"You're doing no such thing. You can barely stand!" Hux sniffed, then wrinkled his nose like he smelled something unpleasant. "Trooper, get him back on the bed."

"...Yes, sir!"

Kylo turned his head to glare at the trooper, who hesitated, glancing at Hux.

"I do not need any assistance," he said, enunciating each word with exaggerated care. He pushed off the floor, got his legs under him again, and stood without mishap. He glared at Hux, who rolled his eyes.

"For Hell's sake, Ren, what were you going to do, walk through the halls of the _Finalizer_ stark naked?" He waved a gloved hand at the gown on the floor. "Put that back on and stop playing games!"

"I'm not staying here," Kylo said. "If you don't want me to upset the delicate sensibilities of your precious stormtroopers and staff, then bring me my clothes!"

"I'm not bringing you anything. And before you ask," he continued as Kylo opened his mouth, "you will not order this trooper to do it for you. JB-007 is here to act as your guard."

Kylo glared at the trooper. He knew that designation. The one who'd allowed the prisoner to escape. JB-007 took a step back.

"Do you trust your crew so little that you need to assign a babysitter to protect me?" He sneered, lip curling. "And not a very competent one, from what I hear."

"Actually he's here to make sure you don't hurt anyone else," Hux said, as the trooper took another step back. "Although from the look of this room you've already managed to destroy some valuable equipment." He sighed.

"I was unconscious." Kylo yanked the sheet off the bed. It, too, was white, but he was starting to get cold. "Bring me my clothes." He glared at Hux, adding a slight _push_ from the Force to make him obey.

"No," Hux said, watching as he wrapped the sheet around himself. "You look like shit, Ren." _Even more than usual._

He didn't speak the last part, but the thought was so loud he might as well have. Kylo straightened and stared down his nose at him.

"How kind of you to be concerned about my appearance, General." He ignored the scoffing noise Hux made. "I assure you that once I'm out of this glorified nursery and back in command I'll be just fine." He took a step towards the door.

Hux lifted his chin. "It's a good thing you favor that ridiculous mask of yours. It might serve a purpose, now."

Fury blazed through him. How dare this pale little worm insult him? "What did you say?"

The trooper had managed to make it out into the hall. Hux merely twitched his shoulders, dismissing the threat Kylo so clearly posed.

"You haven't looked in a mirror lately, have you?"

"I hardly see what that has to do with anything."

Hux smirked. " _'Hardly see'_ is right. How many fingers am I holding up?"

He held up his left hand. Kylo could see an indistinct blur and automatically turned his head to get a better look.

"As I thought." Hux dropped his arm. "If you want to make even more of a fool out of yourself by leaving, I won't stop you." He stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture at the door.

Kylo hitched the sheet around his shoulders and glared. He could feel the burn across his face pounding, but refused to acknowledge it. Any damage was temporary. It could be fixed. And what didn't kill him made him stronger.

"I'm glad you're finally deciding to be reasonable about this, General," he said.

" _Reasonable_ would have been reporting the location of the intruders rather than stomping off after them by yourself," Hux said. "And _reasonable_ would be staying here until you've been cleared by the doctor. I am, however, resigned to the inevitable. You've never listened to common sense before, so why would you start now?"

"Be careful not to anger me, General Hux." Kylo strode over to glare at him with his good eye. "You would not want to feel my wrath."

"I'm sure that will go over well with Supreme Leader Snoke. He's already furious with you for letting the intruders escape."

Kylo blinked. "They _escaped?_ How could you let that happen?"

"Me?" Hux's eyes widened. " _You_ were the one who went charging after them. Why didn't _you_ stop them?"

"I…" He flashed back to the fight, to the way his grandfather's lightsaber flew to the girl instead of him. Remembered the blazing fury of her strikes and how easily she countered his moves. He frowned. "She was stronger than I expected."

"Yes. Despite all of your training you let a frail piece of scavenger scum with a stolen lightsaber best you in battle."

Kylo went rigid. He pictured himself strangling Hux, ignoring his pleas as the life slowly drained from his eyes. He imagined flinging the body across the room to fall among the rest of the garbage.

"You let her escape, too." He managed to choke the words out. Lights flickered in the blur on his right side, but he was gratified to see color bloom in Hux's cheeks.

"I didn't _let_ any of them escape," he said, his accent getting more pronounced. "I had my orders. Unlike _some_ people, I actually follow them."

A figure moved in the corner of his vision and he twisted to look, but no one was there.

"As you say, General." Kylo stepped away from him. "This isn't over."

"Try not to destroy anything else on your way back to your quarters," Hux said, pivoting to stalk out the door ahead of him. "Trooper! Clean up this mess!"

"Sir!"

The trooper gave Kylo a wide berth as he reentered the room. Kylo sneered at him and walked out, using the Force to give the damaged equipment one final shove, adding more to the fool trooper's task.

He'd show Hux, he'd show all of them that Kylo Ren was not someone to cross! He'd prove himself to his Master no matter whom he was ordered to kill.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the middle of what the lower orders called "Dead Shift," so there was no one to witness Kylo's halting progress except for a maintenance droid. It was easy enough to override its orders and demand it help him back to his quarters. The still-smoldering pieces littered the corner of his room as he finished dressing and decided to reward himself with a moment of rest on the edge of his bed. Once sitting, however, his body rebelled. He fell back onto the hard matting and darkness swallowed him.

He was standing on the narrow bridge in the core of Starkiller Base. What little he could see glowed with a blood-red light. His eyes burned. Everything burned. The pain was so intense it was if he'd driven the lightsaber through his own chest. He couldn't breathe. He felt himself falling, watching the light fade until he was in complete darkness. And then something caught him. He hung in midair, feeling a tingle against his skin, and tried to think past the pain and confusion to try and understand.

The net. The energy net. Stormtroopers could be careless on the walkways, so the energy nets had been installed at certain levels to catch the valuable tools and weapons (and less valuable troopers, themselves) that fell. Kylo took a breath. Why would that matter, though? Why think of that now?

 _Your father was right,_ the voice whispered. _Snoke is using you. He'll use you to get what he wants and then cast you aside like so much trash._

"No." He choked, feeling a familiar, coppery taste in the back of his throat.

 _You know who else was a tool? A puppet for his power-mad Master?_ There was a dramatic pause and Kylo tried to shut out the answer he knew was coming. _Darth Vader._

"No!" He licked his lips, tasting blood.

 _Darth Vader, the terror of the Empire, was no better than a dog on the Emperor's leash. How does it feel to follow in his pawprints, puppy?_

Kylo felt a band of metal clamp around his neck, but bands also snapped onto his arms and legs and around his chest, which still felt molten.

 _There's still hope for you,_ the voice said. _No matter how dark you think things might be, there's always a bit of light._

He heard beeping, a slow, rhythmic sound that reminded him of medical equipment. Was he back in the infirmary?

Blurry forms began to take shape in the darkness. One was bright and reflective.. He still couldn't see clearly, but the chromed armor of the stormtrooper commander was impossible to miss. The smaller figure before her seemed to swallow the light.

"I don't care what the Supreme Leader says," Phasma said, "I refuse to waste such an important tool."

"He isn't a tool, he's a liability!" General Hux snapped. "And he's one that Snoke has ordered eliminated. Immediately."

Kylo was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Were they talking about him? That couldn't possibly be right. If there was anyone who hated him more than Hux, it was Captain Phasma. She would never defend him. And Supreme Leader Snoke wouldn't order him eliminated. He was too powerful! Too valuable! He'd prove it as soon as he escaped whatever was happening.

There was a shimmer as Phasma moved. "Snoke has his own reasons for wanting him dead, but if we keep him alive-"

"Which is no guarantee," Hux interrupted.

"-we can use him to shatter the Resistance once and for all!" Phasma finished.

"I think you're overstating his importance," Hux said. "According to our reports-"

Kylo finally managed to draw another breath. It was torture. He could feel it bubbling like acid. The unseen machinery switched from quiet beeps to piercing alarms.

"General Organa will want him back," Phasma said. "I'd stake my career on it."

He sensed- something- being done, but his body went rigid. The bindings cut into him as he seized.

"General Hux." The artificially precise voice of a medical droid interrupted the argument. "He's crashing again. What are your orders?"

Bit by bit, Kylo could feel himself go numb even as the spasms continued.

"Put him in the tank," Phasma said.

Silence. Vision was fading. The voices grew distant.

"Your orders, General Hux?"

"...Put him in the damn tank."

Kylo sat upright on his bed, clutching his uninjured chest as he gasped for air. He was sweaty and disheveled, but he was still in one piece. Mostly. His side still throbbed and the slash across his face prickled as he fought to control his breathing. Just a nightmare. A very vivid nightmare.

Eventually his pulse slowed and he could breathe normally again. He changed into fresh clothes and slipped his mask into place. It helped him feel more complete. More like himself. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, reminding himself that he was Kylo Ren. No other identities mattered. Especially not after… not after what had happened. What had had to happen in order to make himself stronger. And he was stronger. He knew it.

 _It's not too late._

The traitorous little voice was whispering in the back of his head again. He smashed the mirror and stormed out of his room. The mask made his impaired vision even more obscured, but he would never have left it behind.

 _You can still save him._

It was a lie. The last shadow of Ben Solo had died with his father. He reached up, rubbing his chest and remembering the sound of medical equipment. No. His father was _dead_. He'd _felt_ him die. There was no trace of him anywhere. And yet…

The pieces of the puzzle started to shift in his head. Snoke's anger that Kylo hadn't done as he'd ordered. The recollection about the energy nets. The argument between Phasma and Hux, even if it was just a wild nightmare, would fit if they were discussing Han Solo. And the pain in his chest, the one that almost seemed to echo somewhere else…

"Father?" He stopped in the middle of the corridor, straining his senses outward.

 _Don't make the same mistakes I did._

Something flickered on his right side. For a moment he could see someone standing in front of him. Young, with a mess of brown hair and dressed in traditional Jedi right hand was mechanical and he seemed… insubstantial.

 _There's always hope,_ the man said, and his voice was the one in Kylo's head. _It isn't too late to make the right choice._

He turned his head, trying to get a clearer look, but the apparition disappeared. He lost track of how long he stood there, staring and thinking. When he heard voices approaching he activated his lightsaber and whirled. Two technicians screamed and fled back the way they came. He attacked the wall where the mysterious figure had stood, turning the panels to slag and shorting out the wiring behind them. The light overhead flickered and he stopped, breathing heavily.

Nothing happened.

He deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt before turning and continuing down the corridor. He had a lot to think about, now.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a long and exhausting day, punctuated by periods of absolute frustration. Kylo gritted his teeth through the meeting Hux forced him to attend, letting the mind-numbing numbers wash over him: how many millions had died on Starkiller, the billions of credits lost, irreplaceable equipment and data, blah, blah, droning blah. Kylo reached down once in awhile to jab his thumb at his hip, using the fresh jolts of pain to keep him awake and fuel his anger. None of this was his fault. None of it was relevant to his interests, either, but Hux droned on. Sometimes Kylo suspected he simply loved the sound of his own voice. His "inspirational speeches" to the troops were frequent and tedious.

"Will that be all, General?" He drew out the words, inflecting them with sarcasm that was evident even through his mask's synthesizer.

Hux's lips thinned, turning even paler. "I'm sorry, _Lord Ren,_ " he said. "Are the reports of our staggering losses boring you? Or perhaps you're too weakened by your own injuries and need a rest?"

Kylo clenched his fist, reminding himself that his Master had ordered him not to kill the general when they'd first been assigned together.

"My concerns are focused on the future, not the past," he said. "If the Resistance has managed to obtain the completed map they will undoubtedly be sending someone to recruit Luke Skywalker to their cause. We need to make sure he doesn't make it back alive."

"Yes, That seemed to work so well for you last time."

He froze, wondering if Hux was was referring to his father's survival, but then he kept talking.

"Perhaps if you had done the job right the first time we wouldn't be in this position now."

"That is also in the past," he said, feeling the scar on his face tingle with new heat. "I'm stronger, now. More powerful." He inclined his head, watching Hux closely. "I killed Han Solo. I can kill Luke Skywalker. The First Order will not be stopped."

If Hux reacted to the name Kylo couldn't see it. Or feel it. He tugged on the sleeve of his newly-crisped uniform.

"We already have an agent handling the matter," he said. "In the event that the Resistance manages to convince him to crawl out of whatever hole he's hidden himself in, he won't survive long enough to accept."

Kylo frowned. He hadn't heard anything about an agent, but doubted the plan would succeed. Skywalker might be a fool where emotions were concerned, but he was still a capable fighter, or had been when he was training the cadets. Perhaps old age had weakened him, meaning that when the two of them faced off again Kylo would stand an even better chance of success.

"I'm sure you've thought of everything, General."

"I did graduate at the top of my class, you know." He smoothed back his already-perfect hair. "I also earned several Distinctions in Military Strategy and Assessment."

"So you've mentioned. Several times." Kylo stood, ignoring the twinge that shot down his leg. "If that is all, General, I do have more important matters to attend to."

"Of course you do." He flicked his fingers in the direction of the door. "Don't let me detain you."

With a flick of his robe, Kylo headed out. He wondered what it would be like to run Hux through with his lightsaber, but the thought brought up unwelcome memories. The slight tug from the hilt, the scent of seared flesh, widened eyes lit by a reddish glow. He swallowed his nausea as he walked off the command deck, people scurrying to get out of his way.

Doubt was clawing its way deeper than any physical wounds, worming through his mind and disrupting his thoughts. Supreme Leader Snoke was right to be angry with him. He needed to find a way to purge this weakness once and for all; to silence the traitorous voice that was making him question his destiny… and his Master.

Although he'd left Hux's presence with no clear goal in mind he found himself on his way to the Infirmary. It was a place he always avoided, but now something was drawing him onward. Maybe it was the best place to start; if he could confirm that Han Solo had not survived perhaps he'd have an easier time accepting that his own thoughts were lying to him.

If his father was alive, however…

"I'll finish what I started." The milkiness on his right side revealed a flash of brown robes. He lashed out at it, but only caught air.

He slowed as he turned the corner. Two stormtroopers were standing guard outside the entrance to the Infirmary. This was not standard practice. His doubts took root and spread.

The guards came to attention as he approached, saluting in unison.

"Sir!" The one with the red pauldron of an officer addressed him. "The infirmary is currently under quarantine. No one is permitted to enter."

"Is that so?" He stared at the trooper. The expressionless black-and-white helmet stared back. "I wasn't aware there were any contagions onboard."

"Yes, sir." The voice remained steady. "We're here to make sure it doesn't spread."

The other trooper's armor betrayed a slight rattle.

"I see." He shifted to stand in front of the second trooper. "What is your designation, trooper?"

"Me? Uh, sir?" The voice was either young or female. "Trooper GJ-1112, sir!"

"And do you agree that there's a quarantine, GJ-1112?"

"Sir," said the officer. "Captain Phasma has ordered-"

Kylo raised his hand and the officer's voice choked to a halt as he was frozen in place. The rattle of 1112's armor became more pronounced.

"Well?"

The trooper swallowed loudly enough for the audio receptors to pick it up. "Y-yes, Lord Ren? I- I mean, I just go where they tell me to, sir."

"Then I am telling you to return to the barracks and stay there. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The trooper saluted again, edged past him, and began to march down the hall.

Kylo focused on the remaining trooper. He spread his fingers and concentrated.

"Who are you guarding?"

"Nngh!"

He didn't have to do much to read the answers he wanted. The image floated to the surface of the trooper's thoughts: a bacta tank with a gray-haired figure suspended in it. He released his hold and the officer collapsed to the floor, gasping.

"You are dismissed," he said, walking past him into the Infirmary.

The 2-1B unit intercepted him almost immediately. "This infirmary is under quarantine. If you require medical assistance-"

"Where is he?" Kylo surveyed the packed medical bay and saw a curtained area in the back.

"If you are here to see a friend I'm afraid visiting hours-"

Sparks flew as he cut the droid in half, heading for the curtained area. Alarms sounded. A human nurse came barreling out of a back room. He swatted her aside before she got halfway to him. Patients stirred restlessly on their beds, a few of them crying out or moaning, but Kylo ignored them.

He stopped in front of the curtain, staring. It was a muted blue, shifting slightly in the air currents. The scar across his face throbbed and he realized it was because his heart was beating faster. He took a deep breath. It was probably nothing. He stretched out his senses, but the fear and pain from the patients made it impossible to notice anything else. His hand trembled as he reached out and yanked the curtain aside.

The bacta tank was active, the gel bubbling slightly as it worked. Suspended in it was Han Solo. He had a breather in and a smaller device was attached to his chest over the hole Kylo's blade had caused. His eyes were closed, but the monitoring equipment reflected his vitals.

"So it is true." He placed his hand against the transparisteel. "Father."

He hadn't meant to speak the last word. He had no father and no family except the First Order. Emotional bonds made you weak. Vulnerable. He stared at the figure in the tank, but instead of feeling anger or hatred he felt remorse. Guilt. It was a sign of the flaw that ran through him, the one Snoke was always mocking. It had to be exorcised.

"Step away from the tank and put the lightsaber down!"

He whirled. A squad of stormtroopers filled the entryway, their weapons drawn but pointed at the floor.

"Put the saber down!" The voice repeated.

He glanced down to see that he still held his activated saber. He lifted it, looking back at the troopers.

"Kylo Ren you will cease this nonsense immediately!" Captain Phasma shoved her way through her troopers, standing in front of them to face him down.

"Nonsense, Captain?" His voice was calm. He smiled inside his mask, feeling the cold fire of his rage fill him. "You've been keeping secrets from me and you call this nonsense?"

"The prisoner is none of your concern. Step away immediately and disarm yourself." She, at least, was pointing her blaster rifle at his chest.

"On the contrary, Captain. The prisoner is very much my concern." He flung up his hand and the troopers flew back, crashing into the walls and knocking over medical trays. Phasma staggered, but remained upright.

"General Hux has been notified and is on his way," she said.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" He chuckled. "General Hux is nothing to me. This prisoner, however, is supposed to be dead. Supreme Leader Snoke, himself, has ordered it."

There were a few groans from among the fallen troopers. Phasma remained focused on Kylo.

"He has valuable information that is vital to the First Order. Once we have extracted it from him and he ceases to be useful, he'll be terminated. As ordered."

"Is that so?" He reached out, stroking the transparisteel again. "Or were you, perhaps, planning to use him as a bargaining chip with General Organa?"

Silence.

"It won't work," he said. "My m- the general might be an idiot where Han Solo is concerned, but she'd never betray her precious Resistance for him. Family has always been second place for her!"

 _Are you sure about that?_ The thought was intrusive, and worst of all it seemed to be wholly his own.

"Leave the tank alone, Lord Ren," Phasma said.

"Or what?" He didn't wait for an answer before hurling things at her. Trays. Equipment. Discarded blasters from the troopers. She deflected or ignored most of it, yelling at him to stop, but a canister of oxygen caught her between the shoulders and she was out.

He knew she wouldn't be down for long and was sure that backup was on the way. He turned and jabbed at the tank controls. The top opened and the automated system extracted the occupant, who hung limp in the restraints. Emotions flooded him, but while there was some anger and resentment, sadness was stronger. Even loneliness. He felt an echo of the twinge in his chest. The pain of loss was fresh again. Seeing Han Solo like this hurt. He removed a glove, touching his fingers against the puffy, too-pale skin of his father's cheek. It was wet and chilled from the gel still dripping off of him, but there was still a trace of warmth under it all. A spark of life.

Memories flooded through him; sitting in his father's lap in the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_ as he was allowed to steer her for the first time; getting into a snowball fight with his parents and the delicious moment when his father had switched sides and joined him in pelting his mother; falling out of his favorite tree into his father's arms. And then... the look on his face when Kylo had activated his lightsaber and pierced his chest.

The discharge and jolt were almost simultaneous. By the time he realized he'd been shot he was already collapsing to the floor.

 _That could have gone better,_ the voice in his head said.

Kylo was asleep. Or unconscious. He was also tired and sick of fighting.

"What do you want from me?" He couldn't tell if he was actually speaking or not.

 _What I've always wanted._

Something flickered in the darkness behind his eyelids. A familiar young man with wavy brown hair and intense blue eyes stared at him. He knew this face. He'd seen it somewhere.

 _I want you to make the right choices for the right reasons._

"Cut the bantha shit," he said. "I'm sick of voices in my head trying to tell me what to do. You. Master Snoke. My parents. My uncle. Everyone pulling me in different directions and nobody caring what I want!"

 _What_ _ **do**_ _you want?_ The voice in his head sounded softer.

Kylo didn't know how to answer. He didn't know what he wanted except for a little peace and some time to figure things out for himself.

 _What are you going to do about it?_

He didn't have an answer for that, either, but he could almost feel the thoughts in his head shifting to a new alignment.

"I know who you are," he said.

 _Of course you do._ The figure moved closer. _But are you willing to admit it? Are you willing to take that step and the ones that follow it? You forged your own path to reach this place at this time. Now what?_

Eyes that weren't really there bore into his and he turned away, hunching his shoulders against a sudden chill.

General Hux was on hand when he awoke. Any time there was an opportunity to berate him, you could trust Hux to be ready. Neither of them tried to hide their contempt for the other, although Kylo found himself giving it a lot of thought as the general subjected him to another lecture about expenses and damage incurred due to "reckless behavior."

"You're lucky that Captain Phasma only stunned you," he said. "You injured her troops and nearly injured her. She was ready to kill you after that little stunt. I don't think I've ever seen her angrier."

Kylo doubted he'd been in any danger. Phasma was far too professional to risk killing him. It was, however, another point of consideration. There were very few people in his life who didn't despise him. It had never bothered him before. He didn't see why he should have to please anyone other than his Master and had simply let their hatred feed him. Now he suddenly found himself wondering why that was true and remembering a time in his life when he had been liked by those around him. A time when he hadn't been crushed by loneliness. He kept those thoughts buried deep and tried to move on.

It wasn't long before he was called before Supreme Leader Snoke to answer for his misbehavior. He weathered the punishments as he always did; in stoic silence. Suspended in the air, feeling as if his insides were being torn apart, he realized there might be something wrong with his situation. He made no attempt to deflect responsibility this time, promising to work harder and make fewer "errors in judgement."

"Something has changed about you." Snoke leaned forward in his massive throne. "Tell me what it is."

Kylo clamped down even harder on his thoughts, reinforcing his mental walls. "I am learning, Master. I realized that I've been acting like a child. It's time for me to grow up and accept who I am." Bracing himself, he looked up, meeting his Master's eyes.

Snoke's mouth twitched in the slightest of smiles. "Excellent. I knew I had chosen well when I sought you out as my apprentice."

Despite everything, Kylo felt a small burst of pride at the too-rare praise. He bowed as Snoke dismissed him and returned to his quarters to meditate. It felt as if he'd been walking through his life with his eyes closed and now, suddenly, he could see. He even admitted to himself that he knew who the ghost was; Luke Skywalker had kept a holo of him in his quarters, scrounged up from some old archive. It was Anakin Skywalker, the man who would later become Darth Vader. His grandfather. He'd tried keeping himself from acknowledging it, tried to deny the evidence of the vision, but denial was exhausting and now he was willing to face the truth. Not just about the ghost's identity, but that he was right. Kylo kept making the wrong choices and he no longer liked where they were leading him.

Weeks passed. His injuries healed, more or less. The scar across his face remained vicious, but his eye eventually cleared up. He still caught flickers of things that weren't there. Not only his grandfather, but others, too. A small green alien. An older man with a beard. He recognized them, but said nothing, uncomfortable with the weight of their silent scrutiny.

He remained on his best behavior, ignoring Hux's attempts to goad him. Every time he felt his anger surge he thought of his father, pale and unconscious with a hole through his chest. Hux's spite gave way to bemusement and Kylo caught several perplexed looks from him- and some of the other command crew- when they thought his attention was elsewhere. It was a good feeling.

The close scrutiny continued. Hux and Phasma clearly expected him to try and return to the Infirmary, but he didn't bother. His last visit had opened something in him and now, with a little concentration, he could sense a tenuous connection, just enough to give him an impression of where his father was and what he was feeling. Mostly what he sensed was pain and confusion. Once upon a time he might have enjoyed knowing his father was suffering, but now it bothered him.

He maintained his Force training and physical exercises, the latter helping to diminish the lingering ache in his hip. He also worked with Hux and his team, plotting the First Order's next strike against the Resistance. The base on D'Qar had been evacuated, but it was only a matter of time before they tracked down its new location. Kylo went through the motions, making suggestions and sitting through meetings, never betraying that his heart was no longer in their endeavors.

He also made plans. Despite the surveillance he was able to make arrangements and gather supplies. Everyone was so focused in one direction that they barely noticed anything else, and he used that to his advantage.

"And why do you need these supplies, sir?" The supply officer looked at a point past Kylo's left shoulder.

"It's for the general's cat," he said.

The officer blinked, staring into the eyeholes of Kylo's mask before catching herself and staring down at her datapad.

"Uh, yes sir. OK then. ...Cat supplies."

The bantha jerky, packets of water, and basic rations were acquired with shameful ease. While he normally relied on intimidation and his own reputation in order to get anything he wanted, sometimes he tried things just to see what he could get away with. The answer was pretty much everything.

Doubts plagued him more than ever. Not a night went by that he didn't question if he'd officially lost his mind. He'd spent most of his life shunning the Light and trying to escape his family while idolizing a very specific version of his grandfather and now he was planning to overturn all of that for what? Because a voice in his head that might belong to Anakin Skywalker was urging him to make better decisions? Because he'd finally realized he didn't hate his father? Redemption was beyond him, now. He'd made too many bad choices for "I'm sorry" to work. What could he possibly hope to gain from this?

And yet when he meditated to center himself and calm his nerves, the core of his power always glowed a little brighter when he thought about what he was planning. He'd always been taught that the Dark Side was the more powerful one, but while it was true in terms of raw energy, he was beginning to realize that power came in more than one form. He was on the right track. He had to believe that.


	4. Chapter 4

Hux's vigilance eventually waned. Even Phasma stopped assigning troopers to trail him. He kept playing the disgraced apprentice who was proving he'd learned his lesson. It simply wasn't the lesson anyone thought it was.

At last the time was right. Deep into the Dead Shift he put on his stolen officer's uniform, tied his hair in a bun, and tucked it under his hat. There was no way to hide his scar, but a bit of makeup made it less obvious. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and tried to calm his racing pulse. He almost looked normal. Unremarkable. His face was a little long and the hat made his ears stick out too much, but he looked… human. And very, very exposed. When was the last time he'd stepped out of his quarters without his robes and mask? He wasn't sure he ever had.

Next he walked over to his most prized possession. He placed his bare hand on the cold, twisted surface of the black helmet and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Grandfather. I've worked so hard to continue your legacy, to try and finish what you started. For years I've begged you to show me the power of the Dark Side and have been met with silence. I thought it was because you found me unworthy. But now I finally understand. You've been speaking to me all along, I just haven't been listening."

He sensed a presence beside him as he continued. "I've been lied to, and I lied to myself, but that ends now. Grandfather. Anakin Skywalker. I think I'm finally beginning to understand. My choices have always been my own, but maybe now I can choose with my heart instead of my hate."

 _You learned faster than I did,_ the voice whispered. I _'m proud of you, Ben._

The presence faded and he opened his eyes. Maybe this ridiculous plan would work after all. Maybe the Force was on his side. Turning, he left his quarters and headed to the auxiliary detention area. Someone was always on duty here, but Kylo had the proper codes and a little mental redirection took care of any possible problems. He entered the interrogation room and stared at the prisoner.

If possible his father looked even worse than when he'd last seen him. He was stretched on the interrogation table, stripped to the waist, the restraints digging into his much-thinner arms. The device on his chest still evident, as were dozens of bruises in various shades from red-purple to yellow. There were cuts on his face and arms and one eye was swollen shut. The other eye was simply closed and his breathing was ragged.

"Little… early fr' th'next round. Didja miss me?" The words were slurred and indistinct.

"Yes," Kylo said. "Although I'm not sure why I should bother."

His father twitched, his one good eye blinking open to peer at him. "Ah. Was wond'rin' when they'd send y' in." He grimaced. "Why-" He broke off, coughing. It was wet and bubbly.

Kylo was already moving before he made the conscious decision to do so.

"They didn't send me." He undid the restraints and caught his father as he fell, helping him to the floor. "Not that I expect you to believe that." He held out the clothes he'd brought with him. A prisoner work detail coverall.

"Yer right." His father stared at the offering then looked up at him through a red-rimmed eye. "I don't b'lieve you. Whatever game yer tryin' t'play, here, leave me outta it."

"Just get dressed, old man." Kylo struggled not to frown. "We don't have a lot of time."

"I ran outta time a long time ago." Sighing, his father closed his eye. "Whatever yer doin' jus' get it over with."

"I'm trying to get you out of here, Dad!" He clapped a hand over his mouth. " I mean… hurry up. If the shift change finds the guard missing they'll know something's wrong."

His father was staring at him. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and the dead line of his scar, but the slip worked where mere orders hadn't. With a little help his "prisoner" was soon ready for transport.

"What changed?" His father coughed again, reaching up to clutch the device now hidden inside his coverall.

"What is that thing anyway?" Kylo asked.

"Bacta injection thingy." He clung to the proffered arm. "They say it's what's keepin' me alive."

It almost sounded like a question, but he'd never bothered to learn anything about medicine, so he shrugged.

"It regulates th' gel. Fills in th' hole bit by bit."

"Oh." He should have known better than to ask.

His father kept trying to talk, but it was clear that all of the exertion was exhausting him. Kylo told him to be quiet so he could listen for anyone approaching and that finally seemed to work.

Somehow they made it to the hangar without incident, but then their luck ran out.

"There they are!" A trooper shouted… and opened fire.

Kylo slung an arm around his faltering father and half-dragged him across the deck to his waiting shuttle. Blaster shots whizzed past them and he was hard-pressed to deflect them all, but he managed it. Barely. One grazed his hip near his previous injury and he staggered, fetching up against the side of his personal shuttle.

"Go!" He slammed the control panel to open the door.

"Are you coming?" His father limped up the ramp and scrabbled at the wall.

"Don't be ridiculous!" He unholstered his sidearm and fired back, taking out several of the troopers. More and more were filing into the hangar. How? Had they known all along?

"There's nothing for me out there," he said. "Just go!"

Blaster fire erupted from inside the shuttle. More troopers went down. It took Kylo a minute to remember that an emergency blaster was a standard feature on First Order shuttles. He shouldn't be surprised his father knew that, too.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on the damn shuttle, Ben!"

"I'm not-"

He felt his father grab his arm and then they were both falling onto the ramp. It tilted upwards, dumping them both into the shuttle as it slammed shut. Multiple blasts impacted it as he scrambled back to his feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His father remained on the floor, face blotchy and panting heavily. "Saving… your sorry… ass."

"I told you, I can't go-"

"Hey." His father waved a hand before dropping it onto his chest. "Can you… fly this thing?"

Kylo glared. "Of course!" As much as he would love to deny it, he was still his father's son; he was a natural pilot. Just because he wasn't allowed to fly his own shuttle didn't mean he didn't know how.

"Then less fighting, more flying."

He opened his mouth to argue, but he could hear someone outside the door, trying to work the controls. And his father was still on the floor, clutching the device in his chest.

This isn't over," he snarled, stomping into the cockpit.

He flicked switches and the shuttle powered up, rising into the air. He grabbed the controls and fired the twin laser cannons into the gathering ranks of stormtroopers before pivoting the ship to make their escape. A patrol was due in soon, which meant the bay was open. They took more fire making their exit and then he was kept busy fending off the _Finalizer's_ armaments, dodging TIE fighters, and firing at anything that crossed his sites.

He'd programmed in the coordinates the day before, but it took the computer a few minutes to adjust and set the course before making the jump to hyperspace. Once the starfield blurred he slumped back in his chair and sighed.

"That was some pretty fancy flying."

Kylo swiveled, glaring up at his father. If his injuries were still bothering him he gave no sign of it as he dropped into the copilot's seat.

"This was a mistake."

His father grunted. "Well, you're about seven years too late, but at least you finally recognized it."

"I meant this." He gestured at the cockpit. "I had a plan, you know."

"What, dying?" His father arched an eyebrow. "Let me tell you, kid, dying nobly for someone you- for someone else is overrated. You might think it's some grand sacrifice, but all it does is hurt the ones you leave behind."

His chest ached. He turned to stare out the viewport at the streaks of light. "I've hurt a lot of people already. What's a little more?"

"It's a lot."

He felt a hand on his arm. "Ben…"

"That isn't my name anymore." He shifted his arm to his lap.

"Well I'm sure as hell not calling you Kylo Ren."

"That… isn't my name, either. Not anymore."

Silence. The view was almost hypnotic. Watching it he could almost forget how much he'd lost and how little more he had to lose.

"So what do you want to be called now?" His father's voice was roughened, but he still knew how to speak softly.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter." Loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. He blinked his eyes to keep them clear.

"Doesn't it? You know I-"

"Just stop!" His breath hitched and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He was not going to let this happen. Not now, not ever. "Stop it. You can't save me, F-Father." He stumbled over the word and avoided looking at him for fear of what he might see. "I made my choices a long time ago. You can't undo that."

"No. But maybe I can help now."

He felt his father's hand fumble for and grasp his own. His instinct was to pull away again, but instead he held on tight.

"I can't go home," he said. "You have to know that. Even if you and Gen- if you and M-Mom could keep me from the firing squad I'd still be in prison for the rest of my life. And I'm not going to do that."

"Ben… Son… We can work something out." His voice was getting ragged and was further betrayed by a sniffle.

Kylo- or whoever he was now, he didn't even know- blinked again, refusing to look. His grip got a little tighter.

"I've already worked it out," he said, pausing to clear his throat. "I'm taking you to Pagodin Station."

"I've been there," his father said. "It's not a very nice place."

"No, but they shouldn't care about a First Order command shuttle showing up in their midst and I'm sure you'll be able to talk your way onto a transport back to the Resistance."

"What about you?"

He took a calming breath and finally turned to look at his father. "Once you're off the ship, I leave. I can't take this constant pulling anymore." He could feel tears spilling from his eyes and hated himself for it.

His father winced. "Son..."

He shook his head. "No. It's my choice. _Mine!_ No more listening to the voices in my head, not even when they're trying to help me." He could see the frown forming and talked faster. "I have to go somewhere that they can't reach me. It's the only way I can be free!"

"Your mother and I…"

"I have to do this, Dad. I _want_ to do this!"

They stared at each other for a long moment before his father bowed his head.

"I… I need to think about this. Your mother… she knows I'm alive. She deserves to know that I'm- that we're…"

Something coiled tight in his chest finally loosened and he smiled. "I'll take care of it. You should get some sleep."

That earned him a sharp look. "I'm not helpless, you know."

"Neither am I. Rest up, old man. You can take over for me later."

His father snorted, struggling to stand. "I'll show you old," he grumbled.

He released Kylo's hand slowly then reached up to snatch the hat off his head.

"And take that damn thing off," he said, tossing it to the floor. "Looks ridiculous."

A hand ruffled his hair, shaking the bun loose. Kylo's eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, remembering the familiar gesture. Then his father was leaving the cockpit, grumbling about trying to find a bunk on the damned ship.

"And don't get into any trouble while I'm out!" He shouted.

"I'm your son," Kylo said. "Getting in trouble runs in the family!"

Laughter dissolved into coughing and then annoyed mutters before his father found the door to the private quarters and disappeared.

Kylo stared out at the starfield for a while, feeling at peace for the first time in years. The battle was far from over, but for now, at least, he could enjoy himself. He'd almost forgotten what that could be like.

Leaning forward, he brought up the computer interface, easily slicing through the walls of security to get to the ship ID. He erased the designation that was there and thought for a minute before typing in a new name for the ship.

 ** _Salvation_**

It seemed like a good place to start.


End file.
